That Night

And I lay there that night, with my eyes to the ceiling. I lay there with darkness enveloping me, the world turning around me. As the world shifted, and the thoughts blurred in my head, the silence engulfed me and everything came to a rest.

Click.

I knew that sound. It was the sound of a blade clicking into place. It was the steadied tension and the poise of steel. And I opened my eyes and I lay there, with my eyes to the ceiling. In that darkness, the world sat silently, patiently, waiting for a change. A softer click followed and I closed my eyes as the knife was shut.

Silence followed.

I may have been there for hours or only minutes. There was not so much as a thought in my mind. Everything had blended together and left my body, an empty corpse devoid of soul to lie on the floor. In the darkness. With my eyes to the ceiling.

And even as I knew there was no change, no hero coming to save me, I lay there. Devoid of all hope. Wishing only for something to happen. Knowing full well that it never would. Everything was black and soft before me. Nothing could touch me as I lay there. Not so much as a blade could trouble me. I was too wrapped up in the empty thought and essence.

The world began to turn again. It was all going by again. And nothing mattered. Not me, not the knife, not the floor, nor the ceiling. So I lay there. Not moving. With my eyes to the ceiling. Sheltered by darkness, caressed by silence.

So passed the hours of that night. The river carried instants forward. And before I knew what happened, it was all over. And I was empty. And there was nothing left. And all was still.